The automatic doors of the hospital slid open, and Joey stepped inside, the faint smell of medicines immediately hitting him.
With its clean white walls, distant hum of machinery, and soft murmur of conversations, the room had an air that Joey had always feared.
Hospitals were places of healing, but they also carried an undeniable weight of somberness, and today, he felt every ounce of it.
He walked down to the receptionist, his steps slow and heavy.
He got closer to his brother with each step, but it also made him feel things he couldn't quite put together.
Relief that his brother was alive. Anger at the situation that put him here.
Fear of what he would find when he stepped into that room.
Joey adjusted the strap of his backpack, his grip tightening on it as if it could anchor him.
His mind played through everything Victor had told him.